Demons in the Dark
by Tangledupandsideways
Summary: She's afraid of the dark again, like a child, now that she knows there are still monsters lurking in it. Post-ep for 1x12 Blinded Update: New chapter added thanks to my overactive muse
1. Chapter 1

Gillian's a clinical psychologist, so she knows about trauma. She knows she'd had some recent trauma herself. But for weeks, she believes she can get through it on her own, that it really wasn't so bad. That copycat rapist hadn't _really_ raped her, he just hit her, grabbed her. And she had just kept hearing those victims' voices in her ears, echoing and echoing. She could hear Michelle saying it was silent where Natalie was kept. And Natalie, so ashamed, saying she didn't want anyone to see her. She can still feel that hug, so warm and grateful, as those cold, _dirty_ fingers dig into her flesh. And the rest, screeching car tires and terrified screams in the air, her blinding fear making her recoil from the comforting arms of her own best friend. Her fear, which had lingered even until now as she sits in her office, flying through paperwork so quickly, she probably isn't doing her best work. But trauma sticks with you, she knows that. She just really needs to believe she's okay.

She finishes her work early, 5:00 in the evening. And it's okay because the sun doesn't set until 6:00. She's found her purse and put on her autumn coat, brand new because the incident had torn a hole in the elbow of the other. She has her car keys in her hand as she walks down the hallway on her way home, but she's stopped by Cal.

"Where're you going?" he asks her.

"Early night," she says.

And she stumbles, pauses, looks up at him.

"Is that a problem?"

He shakes his head, and drops a comforting hand on her shoulder as he says his goodbye. It's a miracle she doesn't flinch.

As she passes reception, Heidi eyes her and Gillian pretends it's not uncharacteristic that she's left early every day this week.

As she walks quickly to her car and steps in as fast as she knows how, she can feel the fear emanating from her body and her hands shake as she turns the key in the ignition. But, it's okay. She's not afraid. She just really has to get home because her husband promised to be on time today and she hasn't had a proper evening with him in too long.

She insists they stay in. She busies herself with cooking, chopping vegetables with a stainless steel knife she almost wishes she was carrying when it had happened, so she could fight back like she hadn't been able to then. And in her distracted state, she accidentally slices her finger.

They order in, instead.

Okay, maybe she is afraid. She realises this as she grabs Alec's raised hand in bed as he attempts to turn off the lamp.

"No, leave it on," she says, and she sounds like a terrified child, too afraid to turn the lights off because of the belief that imaginary monsters live in kids' closets.

Gillian is scared the same way, like a child, because now she's certain there really are monsters that lurk in the dark, only they don't have fur or six legs and arms or twenty-seven beady little eyes. They're human, too.

At work the next day, there are shadows under her eyes, but no one notices because she retouches her makeup until she looks just fine.

Her concealer creases.

She works later than she had planned in the lab. Since it's on the centre of the floor, there are no windows and she didn't know that night had fallen. She knocks gently on Cal's doorframe, asking if he's almost done and he's not, but Gillian stays a full hour in Cal's office making _stupid_ conversation only to justify their walking out together. She ignores him every time he says she doesn't have to stay. When she gets home, she calls Alec to stand on the porch while she walks up the erroding path to their front door.

She has another nightmare that night and wakes wrapped up in Alec's arms. She fights to free herself, crying, and he just doesn't know what to do.

"Let me get you some help, Gillian," he begs.

But she shakes her head, so vigorously she's given herself a bit of a headache. And when she speaks, her voice is strangled.

"Just get me Cal."

He's there in record time, only twenty minutes and Gillian still hasn't stopped crying, legs twisted up in her bed sheets. When he enters the room, she doesn't even look to him, not until he says her name with so much concern and guilt and fear because this is _not_ the Gillian he knows, not the Gillian he loves. She looks a mess, hair mussed and flushed cheeks stained with the salt of her tears and he just wants to hold her, but he's smart enough to know that's probably not what she needs. So, he sits on the edge of her bed and just gives her a look, that he's there when she's ready.

It doesn't even take her five minutes before she disentangles herself from the sweated sheets and crawls into his arms, curled up safe. And he strokes her back comfortingly, giving her the time she needs before she can speak.

"I'm just so afraid."

It's all she says and all she needs to say. Cal had already seen it on her face, anyway.

"I know," he says, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"Natalie and Michelle, they'd been through so much more and they're just so strong. I-"

Leave it to Gillian to measure her fear against others, concluding that she didn't have enough to be scared about.

"Gill, it's still a trauma, still damaging. And you're allowed to be afraid," he says.

"I know, I just..." she can't find the words, but that's always okay with Cal because he can _see_ her. And now, he sees the guilt and he understands, he understands that she feels she doesn't deserve help.

He takes a moment, composing himself. He has to put a lot of focus into controlling his voice, only putting forth his concerns, his fears for her.

"Gill, please get some help. I don't think I can give you what you need here."

She pulls back to look at him, tears still falling. She can see he means it, that he really does care, maybe even more than her husband.

"Okay," she agrees and it doesn't even matter that it's tinny and defeated and so quiet he has to read the word from the movements of her lips.

Cal wipes her tears away with his thumb and pulls her back into a hug and Gillian suddenly feels so much lighter having shared her burden with Cal, so much safer in his strong arms.

Neither of them realise that Alec is standing at the doorjamb, watching them together and feeling more jealousy than he knows how to handle. He was supposed to fix her, but he couldn't. The only man who could ever put Gillian back together was Cal.

He knows for certain now that their marriage is over.

A/N: the ending surprised me here, but I guess the knowledge that the Sacrifice episode was next prompted it. It's so great how each time I rewatch the show, I see/think something different or new. I think I'm on my 5th or 6th rewatch. This show is bomb


	2. Chapter 2

"The hardest part is that I had a conversation with him," she says, her voice squeaking higher at the end of the sentence, almost like a question. "I spoke to him and I think I might have even _touched_ him and then he could just... I can still hear his voice, you know. I've _never_ forgotten a voice. And this time, I just really wish I could."

"Do you think it'd be better to forget?" Doctor Gregor asks.

She looks to her psychologist, tears bright in her blue eyes.

"What good comes from remembering?"

There's an uncomfortable silence as Doctor Gregor works at the question. It's not long before she settles on a response and sits higher in her chair.

"Your strength, Gillian. You had a traumatic experience and you got through. You're doing remarkably well, I'm sure you know."

Dr. Gregor smiles genuinely and the warmth it brings to her cocoa eyes bring a sort of ease to Gillian.

"I guess," she shrugs.

But she is. She sleeps with the lights off now and she doesn't startle when she's touched. She still feels fear when walking between buildings and her car, but of course that's understandable considering what she'd been through.

Alec doesn't wait for her on the front porch anymore, he actually doesn't even come home at all anymore. They've separated and she's staying at a hotel and her dreams of forever have shattered. It's Murphy's law, really; so many things going wrong, one after the other in quick succession like falling dominoes pushing each other down. She likes to think it will all make a pretty picture in the end.

"I'm, uh, also getting a divorce," she says.

She can see the surprise register on Dr. Gregor's face. Alec had been so supportive all this time, even though he wasn't planning to stay. And she thinks Gillian must be an even _more_ wonderful woman than she had assumed to be so loved and cared for if even her soon-to-be ex-husband couldn't leave her to suffer alone.

"And how are you handling that?" she asks, pulling her focus.

Gillian smiles, pushing her hair behind her ear.

"It's not so bad," she lies.

Dr. Gregor can't tell.

"I have my best friend and he is great about it, really helping."

This is the truth.

Cal really had been great, talking with her when she wanted and keeping her company when the loneliness was overcoming her. He even left her alone when that was what she needed.

"That's great," Dr. Gregor says, looking to the clock.

She isn't desperate to get Gillian out. Their sessions had run long before and as long as there was no patient after, it was never a problem. But Gillian's ready to wrap this up anyway.

"Yeah, things are finally starting to look up, I think," she says.

Her smile touches her eyes this time.

"That really is good to hear," Dr. Gregor says.

It's the sincerity of the woman that makes Gill like her, makes her want to open up.

"It's even better to feel," she admits, the corners of her mouth lifting with her spirits.

When Gillian leaves the clinic, she is greeted by the warmth of the summer sun and the brightness of day. She shields her eyes with a hand at her eyebrow, casting a glance over the half-full parking lot. She smiles when she sees his car pulling up to the curb where she's waiting.

When he comes to a stop, she opens the passenger side door and steps into the car.

"Hey Cal," she greets warmly.

"Hi," he says. Gillian adores the way his voice gets almost as warm and gooey as the desserts she loves so much whenever he addresses her lately.

He leans over the gear shift to press a soft kiss against her mouth. She smiles as he draws away, encouraging a returning smile from him.

"How'd it go?" he asks.

"It was good," she says. "Cathartic."

What she doesn't tell him is that just being this close to him has done her a lot more good than any therapy.

"That's great."

He reaches for her hand, gives it a squeeze, and when she feels his skin warm against hers, she knows that the dominoes had fallen just right. _This_ was supposed to be what was left. The final picture was always meant to be the two of them standing tall together.

She looks into his eyes, fighting to curb another smile.

"Is this the wrong time to tell you that I love you?" she asks.

A surprise expression flits over his face, but it quickly morphs into one of happiness.

"Any time's good," he says. "I love you, too."

"I know," she laughs. "That's one thing I'll never get tired of hearing in your voice."

"Then I'll never stop letting you hear it."

And though she didn't think it possible, the words make her love him even more.


End file.
